


Before and After

by Mommadon



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:54:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25965442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mommadon/pseuds/Mommadon
Summary: Moments of sorrow bring Marinette and Adrien closer together as they learn, grow, and heal together.A series of nonlinear Before and After snapshots, glimpsing how heartache is turned to joy and tears become laughter.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 87
Kudos: 75
Collections: August 2020 - Exchange





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pickledtalie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pickledtalie/gifts).



> Hello dearest readers! This piece is a different than any of my other works thus far--this is a series of short snapshots, presented nonlinearly, all following the prompt: Angst, Fluff, Kissing. This is a gift fic for pickledtalie for the August 2020 Miraculous Fanworks Discord Server Exchange. I hope you enjoy, pickle! <3

* * *

Before

* * *

Ladybug’s fingers clasped around the delicate butterfly on Hawkmoth’s chest and pulled. “NO! No more evil-doing for you! It’s OVER!” The fabric under the brooch ripped away, and with it, the magic shimmered and faded. Ladybug looked up to the clear Parisian sky and let her emotions pour out her eyes. “It’s over!” she gasped again in pure relief. Shaking with the overwhelming moment, Ladybug looked back down at the broken man at her feet. He was clawing at her, grasping, Chat Noir’s staff holding him firmly in place. “You lose, Hawk—” her mouth suddenly turned dry. She knew him. She _knew this man._ “M-Monsieur Agreste?” She gasped.

“You don’t know what you’ve done!” he was screaming. “You’ve killed her! Don’t you get it, you imbeciles, you’ve killed her! You’ve killed my wife!”

Ladybug shook her head and tucked the abused butterfly pin in her yo-yo for safe keeping. Four strong police officers swept in and quickly had the man in hand cuffs and were listing his rights as they carted him away. Ladybug, still shaking with the trauma and realization of it all, turned and held out her fist to her partner. “Pound it!” she cried, excited for this last, greatest moment. Seven years of hard-fought battles, seven years of work and loss and pain and hope and triumph all poured into this single fist-bump. It was woefully inadequate, but it was the only thing she could think of. Perhaps they’d celebrate later. Maybe a grand party? No, a quiet, calm moment in a hidden corner of Paris and they’d just hold each other and cry now that it was all over. But right now, a fist-bump would suffice. 

The fist bump never came. “Chat Noir?” Ladybug asked, finally cognizant of her surroundings enough to realize that something was seriously wrong. “Chat Noir, are you ok?”

He was frozen to the ground, his baton still extended over the spot where he’d pinned Hawkmoth. His jaw wasn’t working right, his cat ears were flat against his hair, and his body was trembling. The side of his face was still bloody from the battle, but blood wasn’t the only fluid dripping from his eyes and down the tip of his nose. 

“Chat!” He wasn’t breathing. He wasn’t breathing! Ladybug raced forward, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him gently. “Chat, breathe! BREATHE!” He didn’t blink. He didn’t gasp. He didn’t move. “Chat Noir, please! Someone, anyone, help!” she screamed, looking at his glassy green eyes. The baton slipped out of his grip and clanged on the ground. Ladybug jumped in alarm. “CHAT!”

Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, Chat Noir turned his head until his eyes focused on hers. The sound he made was so soft that she would have missed it had she not been centimeters from his mouth, “Father.”

* * *

After

* * *

“Adrien!”

Adrien’s eyes flew open. He was sweating and shaking, and from the ache in his throat, he’d probably been yelling. “M-Marinette?” he croaked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

She was kneeling over him, straddling his stomach, and she started massaging his head carefully. “The nightmares are getting worse.”

He shook his head as she clambered off of him and he stood to walk to the bathroom and wash his face. “Doctor Renault said that was possible.”

“Do you want me to set up an appointment for tomorrow?”

His gut reaction was to say no, that wasn’t necessary, but she was right—the nightmares were getting worse, ever since his father had been moved out of solitary confinement and was due to meet the parole board. “How did I not see it?” he questioned softly. 

Marinette was suddenly by his side, her arms wrapped around his torso firmly. “Listen to me, Adrien. It was not your fault.”

He crumpled over the sink. She traced the scar on his right shoulder with her lips. “I know it wasn’t my fault,” he moaned, “but I should have known. I should have seen. It took us seven years to capture his Miraculous.” He turned to her, his beautiful, strong, brave Ladybug, and ran his thumb over her cheek, “You took far too many hits.”

“Adrien,” she whispered, “your father did a horrible thing; not you. He’s his own person.”

“I know,” he whispered, “but you shouldn’t have had to carry the burdens you did.”

She smiled tenderly, “That’s true. It wasn’t fair. It isn’t fair. But it brought me to you, and for that, I’ll be eternally grateful to Hawkmoth.” Adrien winced at the sound of his name. “Yep,” she added, “I’ll make that appointment first thing in the morning.”

“No,” he shook his head. She gave him a concerned look—it hadn’t been that long since he would try to talk her out of seeing a therapist—but he quickly added, “I’ll make the appointment myself.”

She raised an eyebrow, “Would you like me to come?”

He pondered briefly, “I think so. Yes?”

She smiled, “Good answer. Heaven knows I need it as much as you do. And besides,” she reached up on her tiptoes to kiss his lips softly, “we’re partners. We fought him together, we defeated him together, we’re healing together.”

His heart broke and reformed around hers once again. “How do you do that?” he whispered as he leaned in to kiss her jaw tenderly.

“Do what?” she gasped as he nibbled at the sensitive spot under her right ear.

“Say exactly what I need to hear, when I need to hear it?”

She smirked at him in the dim light, “Just lucky, I guess.” 


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

Before

* * *

She knew she should feel sad, or at least uncomfortable. Cemeteries should be sad places, she reminded herself. But as she pulled her black overcoat tighter to her body, she couldn’t feel sad—at least not truly. She watched him there, standing so stoic and brave, and all she could feel was admiration and relief. For years he’d wandered aimlessly. It took her until their second anniversary as Ladybug and Chat Noir to truly see it; he hid it well. Or, perhaps she had been too blinded by her crush on him to truly see into his eyes… either way, it had eventually dawned on her—that haunted look in his eyes, the masked smiles, even the hurt tinge in his voice—it was the echo of his mother and the never-ending doubt that defined him. That was probably why she’d never connected Adrien with Chat Noir. Chat Noir was a release, an escape from the deafening silence that hung around the Agreste mansion. But now, even though Marinette couldn’t fathom the heartbreak of losing a parent, the questions were finally answered. So, while she should be sad, all she could feel was grateful that the healing could finally begin. Marinette waited until the crowd started to thin before quietly walking to Adrien’s side and slipping her hand in his. There were no words that she could offer that would make this better—and she’d seriously tried— _ hard— _ to think of some, so instead she stood in silence, praying that her presence would be enough for him.

* * *

After

* * *

Marinette held Adrien’s hand as the two walked to his mother’s graveside, on this, the anniversary of her burial. He lowered the bouquet of flowers to the glossy black tombstone, then stepped back. She gave him space, just like she did every time they visited this place, but he didn’t stay parted from her for long. “You know,” he whispered, “this is the first time I haven’t been tormented by how little I know.”

“What do you mean?” she prompted.

“She disappeared when I was thirteen. I was just a kid. Then, I didn’t hear anything— _ anything— _ about her or what was going on until the day we retrieved the butterfly Miraculous. I wasn’t there for my father’s interrogation, all I know is that they got the location of his lair and the whereabouts of my mother’s body, and then they were asking me to identify her in the morgue. I don’t know how she died, if she suffered, if she was alone—none of it. But finally, none of that bothers me.”

Marinette let a tear roll down her cheek. He was so calm and serene that she felt guilty for being overly emotional, but they’d worked too hard on opening up to each other to hide how she was feeling right now. “What’s changed?”

He pondered for a moment, “Time, mostly. Distance as well. Not being right there with him anymore, not being in his house and his presence all the time… and knowing that it’s over—whatever he did to her, however horrible it was, it’s over…” Adrien turned and smiled at her. Even after all these years, that smile made her stomach do a backflip, “And you. Having you as a partner, as a wife, as an ally… it’s taught me to trust again, and learn how to be the kind of person my father never was; the kind of person my mother wanted me to be.”

Marinette smiled at him weakly, and unable to contain her feelings any longer, threw her arms around his neck. “I love you so much, Adrien Agreste.” She kissed him fiercely. He returned her passion, longer and deeper, kissing her again and again and holding her tight against his chest.

“I love you too, Marinette Agreste.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder about what I'm doing with this fanfiction--these snapshots are nonlinear. All the Before sections are basically in chronological order, but the After sections are all over the place. The prompt behind this whole work was "Angst, Fluff, Kissing," so each chapter will contain a little of each.

* * *

Before

* * *

“Marinette. Thank you for coming. I didn’t know who to call.” His face was flat and impassive, his voice was dead. It gave her chills, and not the kind she typically got when talking to Adrien.

“Of course,” she replied simply, and put on a brave and supportive smile. 

“Are you ready for business now?” the lawyer asked Adrien in a less-than compassionate tone as Marinette got settled in at the table in the sterile office. Adrien nodded. “Alright.” The lawyer cracked open the thick binder he had in front of him, and started reading, “The last will and testament of Emilie Agreste.” Marinette’s heart was breaking for Adrien, who looked like he’d been beaten up and didn’t even have a bruise to prove it. Every line item from his mother’s will was another punch in the gut. He winced a few times, but mostly held his composure. Of course, everything, with the exception of a few family heirlooms, was left to Gabriel. This posed a real legal nightmare, since Gabriel was locked in prison and his business holdings had been frozen. Marinette kept a close eye on Adrien throughout the duration of the meeting. He kept looking paler and more distant, and once they’d worked their way through all the company affairs and real estate, and were down to obscure line items, Marinette requested a break before continuing. The lawyer walked out of the room and Marinette stood and stretched before fetching a couple bottles of water for herself and Adrien. 

“Thanks,” he said softly as he took the bottle and sipped it.

“Adrien,” she said tenderly, and started massaging his shoulders, “you don’t have to do this all in one day.”

He sighed deeply and shook his head, “No, I need to finish. I’ve put it off long enough.” The room went quiet as Marinette worked the kinks out of Adrien’s neck. “Mm, that feels good,” he whispered after several minutes had passed. Marinette pulled her hands away—Adrien was _not_ her boyfriend, he had only asked her here to help him weather this very difficult emotional storm, and she was giving him a backrub? What was wrong with her?

“Sorry,” she gnawed her lower lip, “I should have asked if that was appropriate.”

He reached behind her and grabbed her hands, then returned them to his back. “It’s fine, please don’t stop. I don’t… I don’t get a lot of positive physical attention these days. Never really have, to be honest.” 

Marinette had the strange sensation that she was being burned from her chest outward, but the fire that was consuming her body was made of shards of ice. Shuddering, she pulled Adrien’s chair back and whirled it around so the two were eye to eye. “Adrien,” she whispered, looking at him very carefully, “You are deserving of love and peace and happiness and healing.” She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him awkwardly. He stiffened at first, but then Marinette felt his chest heaving in broken sobs. She didn’t let go; she didn’t move. She just let him cry it out until he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. She ran her fingers up his neck and into his hair, massaging his scalp and his temples, where she pressed little circles into his skin until he opened his eyes and wiped away his own tears. 

“OK?” she asked.

He nodded, “Yeah. I… I really needed that.”

She gave him another quick hug. “Any time.” She called the lawyer back in, but Adrien rearranged the chairs so that Marinette was sitting next to him. She kept a hand on his knee or his arm for the remainder of the meeting, determined to give him the support she promised she would, in whatever way she could.

* * *

After

* * *

Marinette rubbed her temples as she pored over her astrophysics text. “Ugh,” she moaned quietly to herself, “this doesn’t make any sense.”

“Maybe that’s because it’s near midnight,” a soft voice said beside her, causing Marinette to jump. Adrien had slipped into the seat next to her without her noticing, and he laughed lightly at her reaction.

“Adrien! I didn’t see you come up! How did you know I was here?”

“I stopped by your apartment to see if you wanted to hang out, but your roommate said you were still at the library doing homework, so I came here instead.”

“You—you s-stopped by my apartment?” her heart kicked into high gear. She hadn’t seen Adrien in months, even though they’d stayed in regular contact. But even now, the thought of him stopping by just to hang out sent a thrill of nervous excitement through her. 

“Yeah,” he shrugged as a wry grin spread across his face, “I wanted to tell you that I was offered the internship!”

Marinette’s eyes popped with understanding, “The one at Dulcimer Labs? Oh wow, that’s incredible!”

He nodded enthusiastically, “They want me to start as soon as the semester ends.”

“Adrien, that’s just… that’s fantastic!” Marinette threw her arms around his neck and squeezed before realizing that was kind of awkward. She started to pull away, but Adrien returned her hug and held her close. Marinette’s cheeks flamed as his breath shot across her neck. Eventually, Adrien released her, and she regained her composure as she returned to her own seat at the desk.

“Any news on your front?” he asked with a smile, totally unaware of the effect that smile was having on her nerves.

“N-No,” she stammered, looking back at the astrophysics text, “Still waiting, still hoping. I guess they haven’t said no yet, so that’s a good thing, right?”

He cocked his head to the side, “They’re not going to say no, Marinette.”

She bit her lip, “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Adrien, but I’m trying to be a realist here.”

“So am I,” he added. The intensity of his gaze took her breath away. Once again, she had to revert to the textbook in front of her to prevent her from turning into a puddle of goo. However, the text was no help. She took a sip of water from her water bottle to give her hands and mouth something to do, then went back to staring at the gibberish on the page. “Marinette.” His voice was dangerously low. What was it her therapist had recommended? _Give him space. Be there for him, but then give him room to heal. You need space as well, but he needs to do a lot on his own._ This was her, giving him room to heal. She wasn’t pining after him anymore. She wasn’t putting demands on their relationship. She had been going out with lots of other people, she was discovering herself here at the University, she was working and loving life, and she was one-hundred-percent-perfectly-ok with texting him and the random phone call. Truly. But then he shows up at the library at quarter-to-eleven looking for her, just to hang out and talk about his internship? And that candle in her chest—the one that only ever burned for him—instantly sprang into a raging inferno of hope. What was he doing here, really? What was _she_ doing? How was she supposed to help him heal if he sought her out? Why was his voice so silky and soft? Why did she have the desire to run her fingers through his hair, to climb up on his lap, and finally show him how she’d felt all thsee years? 

“It’s about space,” she mumbled.

“What?” he asked. 

“Outer space,” she clarified, pointing to her astrophysics textbook. “But it may as well be written in Martian for all I’ve been able to extrapolate.”

He stood up and stepped behind her. His warm hand ghosted over her shoulders before his long, strong fingers gripped her shoulders and started kneading them carefully. Goosebumps rocketed down her spine and over her forearms as his thumbs rubbed circles into her shoulder blades, and his fingertips slipped under the collar of her shirt. She gasped. The heat from his fingers disappeared, “Sorry,” he hesitated, “I should have asked. Is this ok?”

She leaned back into his touch, moaning softly, “Please, yes, thank you, it’s divine.”

The massage resumed, “You know,” he said softly, “I’ve always wanted to return the favor.”

“Return?” she queried as his fingers moved down her back and to a tense spot just above her hips.

“After my mother’s funeral, when you came to be with me while we settled her estate affairs, you gave me a little massage and a hug. I’ve always wanted to return the favor.”

Marinette swallowed, “I’d nearly forgotten about that.”

His voice went to that silky depth that made her melt, “Well, I haven’t. I’ve thought about that a lot. You were there for me when not many people were.”

She didn’t know what to say. Adrien had never shown any interest in pursuing a relationship with her-- unless she counted the years that Chat Noir pursued Ladybug, but since he never knew it was her under the mask, Marinette did _not_ count them. “Uh,” she shot from the hip, simply because she knew it was her turn to talk, “well, what are friends for?”

“Friends?” his voice lilted softly. She couldn’t take it—she _had_ to see him. She turned in her seat and looked up into his brilliant green eyes. They looked so lost. 

She attempted to soften her face, but she was certain the concern she felt was being manifested plainly. “Aren’t we friends?”

“Of course we are,” he corrected, “but, Marinette, haven’t you ever wondered about us? About what it might be if we were… I don’t know…”

She bit her lip. “If we were what?”

“What if we were more than friends?”

Marinette’s breath hitched in her throat. _Yes. I have wondered about that every day since we met. I’ve wondered what it would be like to call you mine, to touch you, to hold you, to tell you how much I love you._ “Uh…”

“It’s ok,” he quickly added in an attempt to dismiss his thoughts, “I was just thinking, not anything weird, I’m sorry—” He was catastrophizing. Just like she was internally. She had to stop this, somehow. She spun to look at him dead on, leaned in, and brazenly kissed his cheek. His eyes popped open and his face flushed. “M-Marinette?”

She smiled, pleased with herself for eliciting such a response from him. She’d only seen him blush like that when they were both transformed, and he never knew it was Marinette under that mask. She ran her fingers through his hair softly, “I’ve definitely thought about it,” she answered his original question, “and I’m game for trying.”

He grinned at her, “Well. Well then. How about tomorrow? You know, I’ve got a little bit of experience in physics, if you want to work on that homework some more. We could hash it out over dinner?”

She looked back at the textbook, then turned back and smiled at him. She had dreamed of this for years, and now, here he was looking so excited and so _whole_ —her heart swelled and felt like it might break her ribcage open. He wanted to be with her. He wanted to go on a date with her—maybe even turn it into something more. She wanted to throw her arms around him and kiss him all night long, but the words of her therapist came back to her. Space. Space and time. There was plenty of time. “Sounds good,” she grinned, melting at how he smiled back at her. “Something tells me I won’t be able to focus on anything more tonight.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, part of the reason I wanted to write this fanfiction as a series of snapshots rather than a chronological story with a plot is because I believe the process of healing after Adrien finds out who his father is and what happened to his mother is going to be very long and very bumpy. In my headcanon that is driving this work, Adrien has PTSD. In this chapter, he is suffering severely from anxiety and flashbacks (but we won't see them). He's choosing to self-medicate. It's not exactly triggering, since we'll see Adrien's behavior through Marinette's POV, but if that information is hard for you, please take care of your own mental health and feel free to jump straight to the "After" section, which is all fluff and happiness.

* * *

Before

* * *

The ballroom at The Grand Paris hotel was hot and sweaty as Marinette navigated her way between the tables and the dance floor. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, she noted with a hesitant smile. She hadn’t thought about things like reunions and parties when she’d volunteered to be class representative back when she was fourteen, but while this particular get-together had been a lot of work, she didn’t regret her decision. She loved her friends every bit as much now as she did then, and if she could help them have a fun and relaxing evening? It was worth the stress. She made her way to the bar in the corner to check on drinks, and then checked that the caterer had finished cleaning everything up from the meal. Marinette dimmed the lights and gave the go-ahead to the DJ to crank up the music. Soon, the dance floor was full, and the room was noisy with chatter and laughter and thumping bass.

A blonde head in the middle of the dance floor, taller than the rest, caught her attention. Her stomach did that familiar swoop that it always had done whenever she saw Adrien. Even though it’d been years since she’d overcome her stuttering and swooning around him, she still felt drawn to him. They’d both gone through their share of significant others, but there was something about him that she couldn’t get over. Six months ago, when Chat Noir had quietly let slip that he was Adrien Agreste, Marinette realized that their superhero partnership was most likely the reason for this insurmountable attraction. She’d beaten herself up, night after night, for all her mistakes. She cringed at the way she had obsessed over Adrien and pushed away Chat Noir. All she could do then, and all she could do now, though, was vow to do better. So, she’d done whatever she could, as often as possible. She hoped she’d helped him as he buried his mother and testified against his father. It did her heart good to see him here at this party, dancing and having fun. But as she walked toward him to say hello, Marinette sensed something was very, very wrong.

Adrien was surrounded by a gaggle of girls, all dancing quite provocatively, and he was holding a glass of liquor in one hand as Lila cozied up to him. Marinette took a deep breath to steady herself. He could dance with Lila if he wanted. He could dance with anyone. He was old enough to drink and enjoy an evening out. But even as she reminded herself that he was an adult and she had no claim over him, Lila wrapped her arm around his neck and shoved her tongue down his throat. Marinette’s blood started boiling and she turned away from the scene. It was Chloe’s voice that brought her back to reality, “Lila Rossi, you skank! Get your claws off him! Poor Adrikins, did she bother you?”

Marinette powered her way through the group of girls in time to see Adrien looking defiant as Chloe pushed Lila aside to start fondling Adrien just as badly. Lila charged the blonde girl, “ _My_ claws? You disgusting pig, how dare you touch him! Adrien despises you!”

Chloe looked offended, “Whatever; Adrien and I have been meant for each other since we were kids. Isn’t that right, Adrihoney?’

Adrien knocked back his drink and smiled sloppily. Marinette decided to act before this went any further. She stepped in between the girls and stated firmly, “Both of you, calm down. Adrien is an adult and perfectly capable of making his own decisions. Now, why don’t you all go check out some of the other activities we have tonight—there’s a raffle along the wall, or—”

“Well _that’s_ rich, coming from you, Dupain-Cheng,” Chloe huffed. “You’ve been possessive of Adrien since he came to Francoise Dupont all those years ago.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Just calm down, Chloe.”

Chloe made one more move toward Adrien, and he turned at the last second so she stumbled past him and bumped into another person, whose drink splashed down the front of Chloe’s dress. Some of the other girls who had been taking in the whole exchange burst into laughter. “Ugh, you stupid fools; you’re all ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous! I won’t forget this farce of a party, Marinette Dupain-Cheng!” 

Marinette held her ground as Chloe stalked off in a rage. “Sorry about that; everyone else ok?” Marinette asked the partygoers, but Lila was already snaking her way around Adrien with a triumphant look on her face.

“I’m so glad that brat finally got what was coming to her,” she sneered. “She’s been entirely too hung up on you since day one.” 

Adrien shrugged, “She’s not too bad. We could’ve had fun.”

Lila scoffed, “With Chloe? Ew, no thanks.” The music picked up in tempo and Adrien flagged down a waiter to order another drink, and if Marinette wasn’t still on the dance floor she wouldn’t have heard Lila mutter, “Besides, everyone knows it’s you and I who are destined for each other, not you and Chloe. She may have been your mother’s pick, but I’m the one who won your father’s approval. Just imagine how proud and excited he’ll be when we tell him the good news that we’re finally hooking up!”

Adrien froze, “W-What?” His hand slowly balled into fists. “My… My F-father?”

“Oh Adrien, you poor cinnamon roll, you _do_ realize that he had grand plans for you? Just because those pathetic superheroes Ladybug and Chat Noir claim that he was Hawkmoth doesn’t mean he was a bad person. He was a brilliant genius, is what he was, and he did not deserve the treatment he got. Just think about it,” Lila continued, feeling braver thanks to a captive audience and the alcohol in her system, “he was right about both of our modeling careers. He was right about all your extracurriculars. He set you up to be the successful man you are—and can still be, if you are brave enough to follow in his footsteps. And he was right about me being the only one who can make you happy.”

Adrien was struggling to keep up with Lila’s rapid-fire defense of Gabriel Agreste. Marinette could see the anger bubbling inside him, though, and once again felt obligated to step in. “Lila, Adrien, I’m going to need to ask you to take this outside—” Marinette started, but Adrien threw his empty glass on the ground, sending shards of glass scattering and eliciting several sharp screams from the crowd.

“I will _never_ follow in my father’s footsteps. He can rot in hell, for all I care,” Adrien growled.

Marinette couldn’t get between the two fast enough. Lila pressed a hand on Adrien’s chest, “You’re wrong about him,” she crooned. “You don’t know him like I did. And besides, it’s not like he really did anything so horrible. I mean, Ladybug always fixed any damage that happened during akuma attacks, so what’s the big deal? And ever since he showed me where his wife lay dying, I just knew, I _knew_ he was a man who only wanted what was best for his family—and that included you, Adrien—”

He snapped, shaking with rage and terror, “You _saw_ her? You _saw_ my mother?”

She giggled farcically, “Oops, I shouldn’t have said that. Oh well, I’m certain that if she were still here, she’d be just as happy—”

“Shut up!” A fist slammed into Lila’s sickly-sweet smile, and blood started gushing from her upper lip and nose. It took Marinette several seconds to realize it was her own fist that had done the damage. Lila fell backward into the crowd as she briefly lost consciousness. The room went silent—or, at least, it felt that way to Marinette, who couldn’t believe she’d just knocked out Lila Rossi. Marinette looked around at the wide eyes staring at her, before covering her eyes and racing for the exit. 

“Marinette!” a determined voice called behind her, “Marinette, wait!”

She was in the parking lot when she wheeled around, ready to defend herself, only to come face-to-face with, “Adrien?”

“What you did back there… what you saw… what you heard… I just… I’m sorry—”

“Adrien,” she countered slowly, “I’m the one who owes you an apology. I know you’re hurting and now I made a big deal about Lila and your mother and… I know that’s not what you want.”

“Why’d you do it?” he asked, his speech heavily slurred.

Marinette cocked her head to the side, “I couldn’t let her spread lies anymore; not when they hurt someone I care about.”

Adrien looked at her long and slow and took a step toward her, reaching for her clumsily, “Do you care about me, Marinette?”

She bit her lip, “You’re drunk and lonely, and you’re clearly not in a good place right now, Adrien. You need help.”

“You know, in all these years,” he started softly, “you’ve always dodged that question. Are you in love with me, Marinette?’

She looked up at him. His eyes were hungry for her, and she knew that it would be easy to claim him for her own—but the mere thought of being with him right now disgusted her. Not that he was disgusting—even in his sloppy, drunken state, he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. And he wanted her! But what he needed wasn’t her, or Lila, or Chloe. What he needed was help. So Marinette measured her next words very carefully, “Yes, Adrien, I _am_ in love with you. I have been since practically the day we met. I’ve done some stupid things that I’m so sorry for. You don’t deserve the stupid things I’ve done in the past, and you don’t deserve them now. That’s why you’re going to give me your car keys, and I’m going to take you back to your apartment, and tomorrow morning when you’re sober, we’re going to call Dr. Renault and we’re going to get you help—because I love you enough to not want to do another stupid thing that we’ll both end up regretting.” Marinette held her hand out expectantly. 

He looked at it for a long time, trying to formulate a list of excuses, but finally he looked up at her and said, “You’re a good friend, Marinette.” 

As Adrien dug his keys out of his pocket and dropped them in Marinette’s hand, and then as he threw his arm around her and swaggered toward his car, Marinette’s chest constricted with that familiar ache that usually followed the stomach-swoop. Just a good friend. But, for the first time in over seven years, she realized that what Adrien needed most of all was a good friend, and she was proud that, at least for one night, she could be the person he needed her to be.

* * *

After

* * *

The chair barely made a scratching sound as Adrien pulled it away from the table. “For you, Mademoiselle,” he indicated with a flamboyant bow. 

Marinette giggled, “You’re a total goofball, has anyone ever told you that?” She took her seat and he helped push the chair back in place. 

“As a matter of fact, I _have_ been called that before, but only by those who know me best.”

“Well,” Marinette smiled playfully, “I’m glad I could be among those who know you best, then.”

He winked. The waiter breezed up to them, “Welcome, Monsieur, Mademoiselle! May I get you something to drink? The house wine is—”

Adrien held up his hand and quietly said, “Water, please.”

“For me as well, thanks,” Marinette smiled. The waiter nodded and left. 

“You know,” Adrien said with a slight frown, “You don’t have to hold back just because I’m—”

She shook her head. “I’m not holding back. One of these days you’re just going to have to get over the fact that I like being with you.”

He smiled for real this time, that dazzling smile that crinkled his cheeks and took her breath away. In the time she’d known him, Marinette had only seen that smile a dozen times or so, and it had only been when he was transformed as Chat Noir--until recently. Her heart did a tap dance against her sternum and she sipped her water just to do something with her hands, which had suddenly gone clammy. 

“What is it?” Adrien asked, looking concerned. So he’d noticed how he’d just turned her into a puddle of goo? Great. 

But she’d been doing her own work while he’d been in rehab—and hiding her feelings and lying and subterfuge was definitely not in the game plan anymore. She returned the smile as best she could, “Have I ever told you how much I love your smile?”

His eyebrows flew upward, “Oh, is that it? Well, here you go—” and he threw on his fake grin that he used for his steamiest photoshoots.

She giggled, “No, not _that_ smile. I mean the smile that you only use when you’re truly happy—the smile that starts down in your chest and slowly works its way up into your eyes and stays there—the smile you’ve never been able to fake.”

He blinked rapidly at her unexpected vulnerability. “I-I wasn’t aware I had a different smile.”

She took a deep breath and fiddled with her printed menu, then, unable to contain her energy any more, leapt to her feet. “That’s it, come dance with me.”

He looked at around the formal dining room. There was peppy music playing, but everyone else was engrossed in their conversations. Marinette held her hand out expectantly. At last, he reached out and took her hand. As he stood, he pulled her closer to him. She watched as his head climbed well above hers, and suddenly felt less confident. But then, he winked and whispered, “I’d love to, Marinette,” and he twirled her and pulled her in to a jaunty-two step. After a few minutes of exuberant dancing while all the eyes in the room bored into their backs, Adrien leaned in a little closer, “You look beautiful tonight. Did I tell you that?”

“Yes,” she chuckled, “when you first picked me up.”

“Well, then I’ll say it again, to make up for all the other days I should have said it and missed my opportunity. You look beautiful.” She blushed as the music slowed down and Adrien pulled her in even closer, so his lips brushed against her forehead. “Marinette,” he breathed, making her shiver. “You’ve been there for me through thick and thin. All these years, all this pain, and you were always this shining beacon of hope. You never asked me to change, you never expected anything of me, you just stood by my side. Thank you for being the rock I needed. It took me way too long to see you, and for that I’ll be repenting until the day I die.”

Marinette’s feet had gone completely numb. “Am I dreaming?”

He pulled away just enough so he could see her face, “What?”

“This has got to be a dream. I’ve got to be fourteen again in Mlle. Bustier’s class and I’ve fallen asleep at my desk and Alya’s going to jab me with her pencil any second now—”

“Marinette, what are you talking about?”

“This moment. It’s a dream. What are _you_ talking about?”

He looked confused, “I’m trying to tell you that I love you.”

“Oh,” Marinette bit her lip, “Yep, definitely a dream.”

He paused his dancing, “Marinette, you’re not dreaming. I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time now.”

As the reality of the situation pressed in on her, she felt her head swimming and she was losing the strength to stand. As her knees buckled, Adrien’s arms caught her waist. “Are you ok?” he asked, genuinely worried now.

“Fine ok am. I mean, I’m ok fine am me I am.” Her tongue felt like it was dripping in glue. 

He laughed. He threw his head back, his blonde hair dancing over his ears, his cheeks crinkling up, his teeth sparkling, his lips… oh his lips… He looked back down at her, “Hey everyone!” he called, making Marinette’s blush grow four shades darker and causing an awkward silence to fall over the restaurant, “I love this woman!” There was a collective groan and a few people clapped unenthusiastically. Adrien’s beautiful, beloved smile grew into something more intense as he leaned into her space, “And I never want you to doubt it again.” Marinette barely had time to gasp as he kissed her soundly on the mouth.

Marinette had kissed Chat Noir before, before she knew Adrien was Chat Noir. Marinette had kissed other boys before. But this kiss? This would be her first kiss. She decided it in that second, as his lips dug into hers. This was her first true kiss. This was the kiss she would remember. This was the one she would hold on to on cold lonely nights. This was the kiss she would tell her great-grandchildren about some day when they begged to hear the story of her first kiss. This was a kiss she would dream about. This was the kiss they would recreate year after year. She leaned up on her toes, feeling his arms around her, and the wobbliness went away. She was secure and strong, brave and honest, and he loved her. After all these years of dancing around each other, he loved her. She held the kiss, re-connecting, deepening, pouring her love back into him, until the applause of the restaurant crowd broke their concentration. She stepped back, realizing he was panting just as hard as she was, and smiled, “I love you too, Adrien.”

They kissed again, holding on to each other for longer, but this time, the deafening roar of the crowded room didn’t bother them in the slightest.


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

Before

* * *

The hospital was a cold place. Marinette noticed that the first time she visited. So, this time, she wore a long-sleeve, tunic-style sweater and fleece leggings. 

“Adrien, you have a visitor,” the nurse whispered in that sickly-sweet way they do when someone’s on the verge of collapse. 

Marinette rolled her eyes at the nurse and marched straight for Adrien. “It’s just me, not another psychiatrist,” she grumbled. He looked up from the chair he was sitting in and put down his physics textbook.

“Marinette?” he smiled disingenuously—that masked smile that she’d fallen for long before she understood how false it really was—“So,” he said with a carefully rehearsed lilt to his voice, “what brings you all this way on a dismal, rainy day like this?”

“You,” she answered simply, before handing him the lumpy package she had tucked under her arm. 

He looked confused, “What’s this?”

“It’s a gift, that’s why it’s all wrapped up. You should open it.”

“A gift? What for?”

“For letting me come visit,” she shrugged, before urging him to tear away the red wrappings. 

He fingered the softness of the electric-green knitted socks she’d made, then gave her the first real—albeit fleeting--smile she’d seen since before the final battle with Hawkmoth.

“Wow, Marinette, thank you!” The rehearsed lilt, the carefully measured phrasing, the masked vocabulary, the false identity that he worked so hard to perfect fell away. Adrien was himself, pure and simple. Marinette was, perhaps, the only person in the world who would recognize the difference, and she loved it. _This_ was the man she fell in love with. _This_ was the man who, she hoped desperately, would someday feel the same way about her. _This_ was the man who would make a wonderful father and an incredible partner—the same man who _was_ an incredible partner and friend. When Adrien was himself, and not the mask he felt the world expected him to be, he was a sight to behold. While he might attribute the shift in his self-confidence to the socks she’d just brought, she knew that this smile was more than that—it was a product of a great deal of work, and she felt honored that he would share that smile with her. 

“You’re welcome,” she grinned as he pulled the socks over his bare feet, before they sat and chatted for another two hours. But that tiny smile was the only thing Marinette remembered as she skipped home in the freezing rain.

* * *

After

* * *

“I don’t know,” Marinette’s lower lip poked out adorably, “maybe I misread the calendar. Maybe I’m just—”

Adrien gently took her hands in his and lifted her wrist to his lips. “We’ve already decided it’s ok either way, right? No pressure, no worries.”

“I’d planned on just hiding in here and doing it myself, but—”

“Thank you for including me, Marinette.” He stepped in even closer and kissed her forehead, then trailed his lips down the bridge of her nose until landing on her lips. He rubbed the back of her shoulders in soothing circles and kissed her softly until she started to relax. “You shouldn’t have to go through it alone.”

She smiled and leaned into his chest as he caressed her hair. Then, doubting herself again, she sobbed, “Maybe we should wait another couple days just to make sure—”

“Marinette, just do it. We can buy another test in a few days if you want.” Her wide blue eyes gazed up at him, and he kissed her cheeks softly. He thumbed the worried wrinkles on her forehead and winked cheekily. “Come on, we’ll both take one.”

“What?” she gasped.

“I’ll take one too. There’s three in the box, one for you, one for me, one for later.”

“You’re going to take a pregnancy test?” she giggled.

He nodded enthusiastically, “If it makes you less nervous, then yes!”

“But Adrien—”

“Come on, we said we’d go through this journey together, and we’re going to.” He marched into the bathroom and grabbed a pair of paper cups from the package by the sink. “Fill ‘er up.” She started laughing as Adrien unzipped his pants.

“Adrien, you really don’t have to—”

He placed his now-full cup on the countertop and tossed the empty cup to her. “Your turn.”

She groaned with a smile and filled her own cup with urine as Adrien washed his hands. “There. Now…” he read through the instructions on the box and unwrapped two tests. He ducked out of the bathroom briefly and returned a second later with a marker and wrote an “A” on his cup and test, and an “M” on hers. “Just in case we get them mixed up,” he clarified. Marinette was holding her sides, she was laughing so hard now. Adrien kept his face dead serious as he dipped the end of his test into the cup of urine and counted to four very loudly. Marinette teased him back by doing the same with hers. Adrien snatched his processing test and ran into the bedroom and set it on the end table, watching as the absorbent screen filled and the pink control line popped out against the white background. “Two minutes, remember, we have to wait a full two minutes!” he called back to Marinette, still in the bathroom. He heard her laugh in response.

The wait was agonizing. No wonder she’d been so nervous; he kept checking his watch, waiting for the two minutes to finally elapse. His heart still skipped a beat when the clock finally showed that it was time. He looked at the test on the end table. 

“Alright, I know we promised each other no pressure and no worries at all, so please don’t be disappointed,” he spoke as he carried his test back into the bathroom, “but I’m not pregnant.”

Marinette was sitting on the toilet seat, holding her test shakily in her hands, and looked up at him with watery eyes, “Oh, that’s too bad. Because I sure am.”


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

Before

* * *

Chat Noir’s ears drooped as Ladybug landed on the rooftop behind him. “I’m sorry,” he said automatically.

“What for?” she whispered.

“I used my Miraculous for personal reasons. You’re probably here to take it away forever, so I just wanted to apologize before I never got to see you again.” 

She hesitated. “Chat Noir, that’s not—”

“Ever since I let slip my identity, I’ve been anticipating this. Known it was inevitable. I broke the cardinal rule of superheroing. I screwed up. It’s over. It was nice of you to let me get past my mother’s funeral and all, but it’s high time I turn the ring in. I guess I just wanted one last nighttime patrol, and… I’m sorry.”

Wow. He was even more broken than he let on. Granted, he didn’t know how present she’d been in his life these last few months. He didn’t know that she’d been there as much as she had been. He didn’t know that Ladybug was Marinette—the girl who had stood by his side through his mother’s funeral, had held his hand during the painful estate settlement and through his deposition, had helped him check into rehab when he’d completely lost his way, and had visited him over and over again. All he knew about Ladybug was that they’d only had a few sparse communications in the last several months that mainly consisted of her telling him she understood his need for space and time to grieve. “Chat Noir, I’m not here to retrieve your Miraculous.”

In the moonlight, his eyes glowed faintly as he examined her, as if trying to decide how trustworthy she was. “Oh.” He didn’t even have enough levity in his voice to turn the word into a question.

She slowly stepped toward him. He scooted away from her on the ledge of the building. “I’m here,” she continued quietly, “because Tikki let me know that you’d transformed, and I’ve been dying to see you.”

He blinked at her in confusion. “Dying to… why?”

“Because I miss you and I care about you. And I know what you’ve been going through.” _And, gosh darn it, I love you._

“Oh,” he stated again, then turned to look out over the sparkling city lights. “Well, that’s cool, I guess.”

“Can I sit here with you?”

“Um, sure,” he said softly. She hopped to the ledge and sat close enough that their arms brushed against each other. 

“Chat Noir, you’re an amazing superhero. I never told you that, but you are. I should have told you that every day.”

He took a deep breath, his shoulders stiffening beside her, then he suddenly growled, “Please don’t. Please don’t lie to me to make me feel better. It just makes everything worse.”

“It’s not a lie!”

“Oh. Right.” His tone was hard and bitter, and dripping with sarcasm. “Because I really _am_ an amazing superhero. So amazing that I lived under the same roof as a freaking supervillain and never even noticed. So amazing that I let this go on for seven years. So amazing that I can’t get his smiling face out of my head.” He hit himself in the temples to prove his point. “Every night I see him. Every night he’s hurting people again and I’m just sitting there, watching him, smiling for the cameras and dismissing every warning sign! And I can’t breathe a word of it to anyone—not my therapists, not my lawyer, not even my closest friend. We may have got the Miraculous from him, but… we lost. _I_ lost.”

Ladybug was trembling as the tears coursed over the rim of her mask. She couldn’t stop her hand from shaking as she reached for his hand and interlaced their fingers. “Chat… that’s just the thing. You’re an amazing superhero because you’ll wear the scars for the rest of your life. It’s not the ring that makes you great, any more than the butterfly brooch made him evil. You showed up every day for seven years, and even now, even with this horrible trauma to bear alone, you’re still trying. It’s your pain and your resilience that defines you, and your determination that makes you a superhero.” He looked at her warily, as if he wasn’t sure he believed her. She stayed very quiet, allowing the long look they shared to express what words could not. She squeezed his hand and leaned in closer. The two broke eye contact, and turned to the city they loved, the city they’d protected all these years, quiet at last, and leaned into each other for a long, long time. 

“Chat?” Ladybug muttered.

“Hmm?”

“I think you should tell your therapist—that is, if they’re a very good therapist and you trust them—about everything. Tell them your identity, tell them what happened. You need to talk to someone.”

“You’re giving me permission to share my identity?” he croaked.

“No, I’m encouraging you to get whatever help you need. And if you need to tell a friend too, then do that.” He squeezed her hand but made no further response. “And Chat?”

“Yeah?”

“Could we start running patrols again? At least once a week? I… I need it. Paris needs it. I need you.”

He turned then and looked at her, his wild green eyes darting back and forth between hers, his lips slightly parted as he processed this plea. She briefly thought about clarifying her final statement, but then realized it was exactly what she meant to say. She needed him—she needed this side of him—in her life, and she knew he needed it too.

“I… I’d like that, Milady. I’d like that very much.”

She smiled and leaned into a hug. As they held each other, Ladybug felt the first glimmer of hope for her Kitty. There was still a long path of healing ahead, but it was going to be ok.

* * *

After

* * *

“Ladybug! You’re early, is everything alright?”

Ladybug slipped on her landing and fell into Chat Noir’s open arms. “Yeah, everything’s f-fi—” His face, so close, so warm, looked down at her with tender concern. “No, it’s not fine. We need to talk.”

He let her go and backed up, looking even more worried. “What’s the matter? Are you ok?”

She immediately started pacing, the weight of her feelings pressing on her so heavily that she had to move to prevent herself from being crushed by it all. “I’m great. I just… I need to…” She was never going to find the right words—she knew that, so she dove in head first. “Look, I’ve been seeing this guy and it’s been getting really serious and I—”

“Oh,” he said, then his face relaxed. “Wow, that’s awesome. You know, I always thought I’d be heartbroken when you finally found a guy, but I’m not. I’m just happy for you. So, tell me about the lucky fellow.”

She looked up at him, at the eager smile on his face, but the brief pause in her pacing was enough for the weight to start pressing on her chest again, so she began moving once more. “I don’t know how to do this. I probably should have told you a long time ago, but there was always a reason not to. Now, I’m finally realizing that it was nothing but excuses.” 

“What was excuses?”

She stopped pacing and looked at him, “All the reasons I turned you down. Why I’ve always been so intense about our identities. All of it.”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “That… was excuses?”

She nodded. “I was putting up a wall between us, and frankly, I don’t even know why.”

“What are you saying, Ladybug?”

She took a deep breath to steady herself, and then blurted, “I love you, Chat. I have for a long time.” His hand flew to his mouth and he stumbled backward. “I don’t expect you to return my feelings, or say anything at all, but if I’m to move forward with… the guy I’m seeing… I need to tell you the truth.”

“W-why? Why now? I… I told you I was dating a girl and it was going really well. I just told her I loved her, and she loves me back.”

Ladybug nodded, “I know, and I’m so sorry. I need you to know how I feel about you and… this is the harder part—I don’t want there to be secrets between us. I—” she swallowed hard, finding this far more awkward and difficult than her rehearsals had been— “I really want to tell you who I am. I need you to know.”

“L-Ladybug,” his voice quavered, “this is all really sudden.”

“But is it?” she asked, wringing her hands, “We’ve known each other for eight years now. We’ve been to hell and back together.” Their eyes met and locked intensely, “I know your feelings have changed for me, but they haven’t gone away. I know it’s unexpected, but it’s not sudden.” His breath was escaping in short bursts. “I won’t do it if you don’t want me to. I just… I need you to know everything about me so you can decide.”

There. She said it. It was rough and messy, but she said it. She’d been dating Adrien for weeks, and this secret had been gnawing at her. Already, the crushing weight was lifting. “Decide? Decide what?” he asked tenuously.

“If you still want to be with me.”

“I’m really confused, Ladybug.”

She looked at him carefully. He wasn’t backing away, he wasn’t telling her to stop, but she’d promised herself that she wasn’t going to spring anything on him without his permission. “See, remember when we first got our Miraculouses, and you were always flirting with me and I pushed you away because I said there was another boy?”

He smirked, “How could I forget?”

She nodded sadly, “But we worked through that. Eventually we were able to become better partners because of it. I was able to see you for the incredible hero you are; you were able to trust me implicitly. And as I got to know you better, I started to fall in love with you. For a long time, I thought there was something wrong with me because I was still in love with the… the first guy. But, eventually, it became clear that there was only you, only one person who held my heart in his hands.

His eyebrows lifted slightly, “Only one person?”

“Adrien.” When she said his name, his eyes lit up and his jaw softened. “It was always you, Adrien. I loved you from day one, when you shared your umbrella with me. It took a long time to figure it out, but it was always you.”

Now it was his turn to break down. His hands were shaking, his lips trembling, and he took a shaky step forward, “M-Marinette?”

“Spots off.” The pink light rippled down her body, and she suddenly felt naked, even though she was fully clothed. He stared at her, his mouth slack and his fists clenching and unclenching. “I’m—I’m s-sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner. I want to be with you, but I understand if you need some time. I’ve been hiding this huge thing for so long that I totally get it if you are angry. I’d probably be angry if the person I just told I loved had been hiding a massive secret for years. I mean, I’d still go home and cry into a plate of pain-au-chocolat and never get over you, but I’d get it. So, if you want me to go, I’ll go. I just… I really needed you to know—”

He took three massive steps toward her, scooped Marinette up in his powerful arms, and kissed her senseless. He twirled her off her feet, not releasing her lips from his even for a second, until he’d kissed her so long and thoroughly that there was not a shred of doubt left in her mind. Then, and only then, did he pull back and set her on her feet. “So. Not angry,” she smiled. 

“Marinette,” he breathed, and it was like it was the first time he’d ever spoken her name. It was all she needed. _He_ was all she needed. He leaned in and kissed her again, his fingers curling around the base of her skull. She wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted herself on her tiptoes to reach his height. She parted her lips slightly and ghosted her tongue on his teeth. He responded by wrapping his other arm around her waist and hugging her body to his. His lips broke from hers and trailed across her jaw and down her neck, tickling her collarbone a few times, before coming back up the other side and back to her hungry mouth. 

In later years, when she remembered this moment, she couldn’t say how long they stayed on that quiet rooftop, kissing and holding each other, but it was a long time. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning--this chapter is where this fic earns its Teen rating, first for serious injury during a fight scene, and second for a steamy makeout. Just a heads up!

* * *

Before

* * *

Ladybug was falling. Everything seemed to go in slow-motion when she was falling. She hurled her yo-yo to a business sign, but it moved excruciatingly slow. She screamed for her partner, but the word took ages to escape her lips. The string hooked and she pulled to halt her descent, but even that was too slow to be fully successful. And then, slowly, achingly slowly, she slammed into the sidewalk. Her tailbone hit first, then her back rolled down into the pavement one cracked vertebrae at a time, until, finally, her skull impacted the unyielding ground. The air from her lungs erupted from her nose in one tremendous gust, her eyeballs ricocheted against the back of their sockets, she bounced briefly, before dropping into the pavement once more. 

_Get up, Marinette,_ her brain scolded her. _Get up now._

Her hands quavered as she tried to push herself up on her elbows, before they gave way to the pressure and she collapsed back on the pavement. 

“Ladybug!” 

His voice made her heart stutter. He was relying on her. All of Paris was relying on her. She tried again, but her arms weren’t working right. She looked down and realized most of her wasn’t working right. The pain was just starting to make itself known—starting at the base of her skull and radiating in white-hot stabs down her spine and arms. Not her legs though, thank goodness. Her legs were blissfully, blessedly pain-free. 

“Ladybug!” Chat Noir was suddenly over her, his hands darting over her suit. “I saw you fall—are you ok?”

“F-fine,” she gasped, but her mouth was suddenly full of blood and she had to spit it out to enunciate better.

“Oh!” he sobbed, “What did she do to you? Our suits are indestructible!”

Ladybug tried to shake her head, but the motion made her neck and skull throb so violently with pain that she started gagging. “Help,” she managed to splutter just in time for Chat Noir to help her turn her head so she could retch up a torrent of blood, which splattered over the dented pavement. 

The look on Chat Noir’s face morphed from concerned horror to rage. “She hurt you. I’m going to destroy her.”

“No, Chat, stop,” Ladybug was able to manage, albeit weakly. He hesitated and looked at her, now confused. “You c-can’t,” her voice wasn’t working right, but she had to say this, “face her like this. Angry. Don’t fight angry. Fight smart.” Black crept into the corners of her vision; she blinked and winced to keep herself awake. “Get help. C-Carapace. R-R-Rena—” he nodded fervently. “L-Lucky Charm,” she whispered, and he caught the Miracle Box she’d just summoned. “Save the day.” His lip quivered once before a steely look of determination overtook his features. His hand patted her leg reassuringly.

“I love you,” he whispered just for her, and she understood everything he meant.

The last thing she was aware of was how she didn’t feel Chat Noir’s hand on her thigh before the pain overtook her last ounce of strength and she lost consciousness. 

* * *

After

* * *

Adrien’s hand ran up Marinette’s thigh with velvet-soft-fingertips, shooting ticklish tingles over her skin. She giggled, “Stop it, that tickles!”

He waggled his eyebrows, “My lady bids me stop, but her eyes say otherwise.” He increased the speed of his tickling and moved to her inner thigh, causing her to squirm and growl in playful disdain.

Marinette rolled over and pushed him away. He leaned back on his knees and wagged his back side just as Chat Noir would have to flick his tail. Then, he pounced, trapping Marinette under his long arms and digging his fingertips into her ribs. She squealed and laughed, pulled her knees to her chest, and wriggled to get away from him. “I give up, I give up!”

“Yes! I win!” he declared victory, pulling her body into his and ceasing his tickle attack. He kissed the side of her mouth delicately.

“Until next time, that is,” she warned playfully.

“At which point,” he paused to tease the side of her mouth with his velvety lips, “I’ll just have to beat you again.”

She shivered with pleasure. “That… that’s just not fair,” she tried. “You’re not even ticklish.”

“But I’m glad you are,” he laughed, stroking the sensitive part of her underarm with his thumb and causing her to squirm once again. 

“Is that so?” she gasped as she moved away from his dangerous fingertips while trying to keep her mouth close to his.

“Yes, that’s so.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Why am I glad you’re ticklish?” he asked, pulling away to look at her more carefully, the teasing draining from his tone. She nodded her response. “Because…” he started, a far-off look crossing his face, “do you remember when we first battled Ignoblia? It was the first big battle we’d had with a supervillain after Haw—after retrieving the Butterfly Miraculous.”

Marinette took a deep breath. So _that_ was what this was about. “Adrien,” she whispered, “I told you then, I’ve told you every time—the Miraculous Ladybugs healed me. It was only a couple hours that I was paralyzed.”

“I know,” he whispered back, “but I still like to check. Just to make sure.” His eyes were earnest and soft. His lips were centimeters away from hers. He smiled, his amazing mouth making her heart melt.

“Do you have to check in such a ticklish way, though?” she whined.

He waggled his eyebrows once more, “Well, what _other_ way would you suggest I check the feeling in your legs?”

She bit her lower lip, then leaned into him suggestively, “I’ve got some ideas,” she teased. His mouth sagged slightly. She kissed him ferociously, pushing him back on the couch and climbing into his lap. Her hands traced up his chest and around his neck. His clasped around her lower back and he pulled her in. It didn’t take him more than a second to meet her intensity. He parted his lips and added just a touch of tongue, then upped the pressure on her lips. She moved from his lips to his jaw and neck, down to his collar bone. His hands slipped to her hips, and then down her thighs. She moaned in delight. “I can feel that,” she smiled. 

“Really?” he winked, “How about _this?”_ he asked as he pulled her in even tighter and gripped behind her knees. 

She nodded. 

“And this?” he asked as he ran his fingers over her feet.

She nodded again. “I can feel _everything,_ ” she moaned. His hands roved over her body. “So you don’t need to tickle me anymore, ok?”

He suddenly let go and pulled back, crossing his arms, “What? No more tickles?” he pouted playfully.

She shook her head. 

“Fine then,” he grumbled with a twinkle in his eye. “No more tickles.”

Her eyes widened with surprise, “Really?” she asked.

“Promise.”

“Promise forever?” she asked, now suspicious.

He thought about it briefly, stroking his chin, “If you really, truly, ask me never to tickle you again, I won’t.”

She broke first. “Nope, I give up,” she admitted, curling her knees to her chest, “you can tickle me as much as you want.”

“Ha! I knew you liked it!”

“You just have to tickle exactly where and when I ask for it.”

His pupils blew wide, “Marinette,” he whispered, completely aghast, “Have I ever told you how much I love you?” 

She laughed and kissed him and tried to tickle his ribs. He just closed his eyes and loved it. “Yeah, you have, a couple times,” she teased.

“Well, it’s true,” he responded. “You completely melt me.”

“No, _you_ melt _me._ ”

He kissed her again. He cupped the back of her head softly and slowly rolled over so he could get a better angle. His hands slid down her sides, from her shoulders to her ribs, to her waist. Her body releaxed under his caress. “You know,” he whispered in her ear as he nibbled her lobe, “we’re pretty sappy, aren’t we.”

She giggled, “Yep. We’re basically the worst.”

He teased her lips with his, “And I never, ever want it to stop.”

“Me neither,” Marinette replied, pulling her Chaton in closer and tighter, never planning on letting go.


	8. Chapter 8

* * *

Before

* * *

Adrien’s feet were numb as he shuffled them on the concrete floor. The glass wall in front of him reflected his own face back at him dully. He looked terrible—his hair was disheveled, his eyelids were droopy, his mouth pulled down in a frown—but he no longer cared about preserving the carefully carved mask his father had created for him. Marinette had helped him overcome at least that much. But this new thing? He didn’t think he’d be able to overcome this. 

Children. She wanted children. She wanted a baby. She’d brought it up casually. Her laugh had been so warm and sweet over breakfast that if he hadn’t been focusing on every word she uttered, he may have missed it. _“When we have kids, I hope you’ll tell them that joke.”_ When. _When._ Not if, not perhaps, but when. A statement. A fact. A plan. 

Adrien had always planned on having kids, sure, back when he was a teenager, back when he was innocent, back when the word _father_ wasn’t profane. But that was a lifetime ago. That was a different person. That was before. 

He should have been surprised that it hadn’t come up sooner, really. He and Marinette had been married for two years now, and they’d just defeated Ignoblia. There were no major threats on the horizon, their respective careers were going very well. The sale of the last of the Agreste holdings had just been finalized, and they’d just dipped into Adrien’s robust trust fund and bought a beautiful house on the outskirts of Paris with a yard and their hamster loved rolling around in the numerous empty bedrooms. Kids were the natural next step. It really shouldn’t have blindsided him. But it had.

He was pulled from his reverie when the door behind the glass wall buzzed loudly and opened. In the man strode, tall, austere, looking down his bespectacled nose just like always. 

“Good to know some things never change,” Adrien muttered to himself when he saw him. Gabriel sat in a chair and Adrien followed suit on the other side of the glass. Each took their receivers from the wall and pressed it to their ear.

“Son,” his father spoke first.

“Gabriel,” Adrien acknowledged, nodding curtly.

“It’s been a while.”

Adrien shrugged, “I come when it’s convenient for me.”

“Three years of inconvencience?” his father raised an eyebrow.

Adrien smirked, “That’s rich coming from a man who couldn’t spare five minutes for dinner with his son more than once a month.” Adrien bit his tongue. _No_ , he scolded himself, _you didn’t come here to pick a fight. You promised yourself you would keep it together. You’re better than this, remember?_

Gabriel sneered, but said nothing. After several seconds of silence, he changed the subject, “So, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Adrien swallowed, “I… I had a question.” Get straight to the point. That’s how Gabriel liked it, and old habits died hard. “Why did you and mother decide to have me?” The question had always gnawed at him—a missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle that mocked him every time he visited that particular corner of his mind—but ever since that morning, it was the only thing he could think about. He had to know. He simply had to know. Whatever had led his parents to have a child, when it was so clearly against Gabriel’s nature? 

His father tilted his head back so all Adrien could see was the light reflecting off his glasses. “Ah,” he said quietly, “so the little wife finally made her wishes known. I knew it would happen sooner or later. As soon as I received word that you’d taken her on—” the way Gabriel’s eyes slid down to Adrien’s wedding band made Adrien feel dirty— “It was only a matter of time before she demanded you reproduce.”

“Don’t talk about Marinette like that—” Adrien sneered, struggling to maintain his composure. 

Gabriel rolled his eyes, “Very well. As for why we chose to,” he swallowed distastefully, “procreate? It was much like what you’re going through now. That is, it was Emilie’s choice. You’d have to ask her.”

Adrien’s temper flared white-hot. He slammed his palm into the glass wall, the echo of the impact reverberating in the cramped room, “How _dare_ you!” he yelled into the receiver. “ _How dare you!”_

Gabriel didn’t flinch, he just smiled slowly, “That’s right. You _can’t_ ask her because she’s _gone._ Perhaps if Ladybug and—” he paused, then crooned the next words so cruelly that the hair on the back of Adrien’s neck stood up, “ _Chat Noir_ had been a little less quick to judge, she may still be here and could answer that question for you.”

Adrien hated Gabriel. Hated. “You disgusting, vile, pathetic piece of—”

Gabriel pulled the receiver away from his ear and tuned out Adrien’s tirade. Adrien slammed the glass again and again, but it was no use. His father just sat there serenely, smiling at him. Finally, Adrien sat back in his seat and pressed the receiver to his ear, waiting for his father to do the same. Gabriel did, and spoke softly, “My, what a temper. It is sad to me that, beyond your looks, all you seem to have inherited from your mother is her penchant for drama.”

Adrien took a deep breath and carefully, quietly whispered, “You didn’t deserve her. You know that? You didn’t deserve her. And do you know what else? You didn’t deserve me.” His jaw flexed twice as he tried to think of anything more he wanted to say, but came up short. The answers he sought weren’t here. All that was here was a reminder of the power-hungry, emotional predator his father had dissolved into. Adrien smiled bitterly and hung up his receiver, spun on his heel, and marched out the exit. His eyes were blurry as he signed out of the prison and climbed back in his car. He was still fuming when he pulled into the parking lot of the bar. His feet were still numb as he bumbled inside and even as he ordered his first drink. He leaned over the bar and rubbed his fists into his eyelids, eager to drown every last memory of his despicable father. 

Cold metal on both hands shocked him as they touched his eyebrows. He pulled his hands away from his face and looked at the back of them. On the right hand was his Miraculous. On the left was his wedding band. 

Two rings. Two precious promises. Two shining symbols of love and hope displayed on the dingy wood of the bar countertop. The bar tender pushed his tumbler of scotch in front of him and Adrien looked at it. The smell was drawing him in, his tongue already watering with desire. But his rings glinted off the light and gave him pause. “What am I doing?” he muttered to himself, swirling the scotch in his glass. “I let him get to me. I let him win.”

He pushed the glass away, the realization cutting to his core. “He’s not worth it,” he told the befuddled bartender, then dropped a couple bills for the untouched drink and walked out of the bar, suddenly feeling freer than he had in months. He pulled out his phone and dialed Marinette, who picked up on the second ring. 

“Hey babe, what’s up?” she chirped.

“Mari?” he said quietly, “I’m at a bar, but I didn’t drink.”

“Ok,” she said, her voice suddenly smooth and gentle with all of Ladybug’s skill, “can you drive home, or do you need me to come get you?”

“I… I can come home.”

“Adrien?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

He choked a bit as he got into his car. His hands were trembling. “Will you stay on the phone with me until I get home?”

“Of course. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Um,” he thought for a second, “yes, I think so.”

“It was when I mentioned having kids, wasn’t it.”

“You know me too well,” he sighed, so incredibly grateful for her. He pulled out on to the road, now speaking with her through the hands-free connection of his car.

“Adrien?” her voice was firm and caring. He focused on the road. “You’re not your father.” He sobbed dryly. She must have heard his reaction, because she kept talking. “You’re _not_ your father. You are warm and fun and bright. You’re determined and strong and you keep trying. He gave up. He placed the entire value of his life—his life and yours—on the hope of procuring ultimate power, and he allowed it to consume every good thing he had left. But that’s not you! You always found a way to solve your problems. You think I was the only one who came up with the plans? No way— _you_ were always the one who executed them. You were the one who gave his all, who showed up early and stayed late. You were always there. You are not your father, Adrien! And you,” her voice broke, “you’re going to be a wonderful dad. When you’re ready, of course, and not a moment before.”

The tarmac slipped under his car as he wound his way through the narrow Parisian streets. Her voice was a balm to his soul. Years of self-doubt had left scars that would never fully heal, but Marinette? Marinette was more than just his wife; she was his soulmate. He bit his lip, “You’re sure?”

“One hundred percent. Always have been. Always will be.”

He took a deep breath and drove quietly until the familiar house came into view. He pulled up along the front walk and parked, and Marinette flew out the front door with her phone still pressed to her ear. Her arms were around him the moment he closed his car door, and she rubbed circles into his temples and kissed him softly. “I love you Adrien. We can wait as long as you need. I want to have your babies, but only when you’re ready.”

He kissed her soundly, “I love you too Marinette. I’m sorry I slipped up there.”

She shook her head, “Don’t be. I sprung something big on you and you needed to process. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He smiled at her tenderly. She was so loving and supportive. “I don’t know how I got so lucky as to be with you,” he whispered. “And you…” he hesitated, “you’re going to make an amazing mother.” He meant it. She grinned and stroked his cheek. “I… I think I’m ready. With you for their mom? Doing this together—every step of the way? Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready.” Her eyes widened.

“Wait,” she said, “you can’t be serious.”

“I am, serious,” he teased, aware of the juxtaposition between his words and his tone. “You are going to make an amazing mother.” 

“Just, when we’re both ready, r-right?” her suddenly nervous hitch of breath made him laugh.

“What, aren’t _you_ ready, Madame Agreste?”

“W-well, I mean, I was just thinking that maybe we should, I dunno…” her breath was suddenly ragged and the words were falling out of her mouth in a tumble—just like she used to do when they were fourteen.

He shook his head. She was adorable. She was sweet and kind and powerful and smart and sassy and terrifying and incredible. Once again, he marveled that she had chosen him, _him_ , of all people, to be her partner for life. It suddenly struck him how this wasn’t about his feelings toward fatherhood—it was about his trust in her and in their partnership. And that? There was no doubt in his mind about _that_. He kissed her again and once more for good measure and allowed it to get a little more heated than they typically enjoyed on the doorstep in plain view of the neighbors, then scooped her up bridal style and carried her through the front door. “Ok, babies? I’m ready, let’s do this!”

She squealed, “What, _now?_ ”

“No time like the present!” he barked, carrying the soon-to-be-mother-of-his-children to their bedroom, laughing and giggling the whole way.

* * *

After

* * *

“There now, sweet Emma, what is it?”

Marinette heard Adrien’s voice soothing their fussy baby from the other room. Her hand halted over her design tablet as she did some quick calculations—when was the last time she’d fed Emma? Did she need to go help Adrien? Was everything alright? Seventy-five minutes. No, Adrien was ok. Yes, everything was alright. She looked over her work strewn about the table. She was so close to finishing this stage of the project. Adrien was more than capable of taking care of the baby for a few minutes, and—

As Marinette’s mom-brain whirred, something caught her attention. She stuck her tablet stylus in the bun perched on top of her head and stood up, stretching quietly. She padded to the door of her workroom and down the hall, lured as if by a siren song. The sound was beautiful enough it could have been, but it wasn’t just the melody that drew her in. It was the fact that he was making one at all. Marinette paused just outside the entrance to the music room and peeked around the corner carefully, not wanting to interrupt this moment.

Adrien was seated on the piano bench of the long black Bösendorfer, holding Emma in the crook of one arm, and rocking her gently, and playing a tune with the other hand. When his song finished, he looked back at Emma and smiled, “See?” he smiled at his daughter, “I told you Grandmother would whisper to you through this instrument. It’s been in the family for generations, and someday, you can learn to play it just like I did.” Emma squirmed and started squawking again, so Adrien adjusted her so she was laying across his shoulder. “It’s ok, sweetie, I’ve got you. Shh, listen,” he muttered, and expertly held her in his elbow so that he could play with both hands. As soon as the music started, Emma calmed down. His fingers flew over the keys. Marinette edged around the corner a little more so she could see the entire extra-long keyboard. The vaulted ceiling of the music room had just the right acoustics for the music to ring and come back to them in rich waves of sound. Emma settled down quickly, but Adrien kept playing. He picked out chord after chord, his long fingers reaching wider intervals than Marinette felt was fair, all while balancing their content baby on his chest. After several minutes, he finished his piece and cradled Emma’s head as he stood back up. He turned and made eye contact with Marinette, who was wiping tears from her cheeks. 

He grinned sheepishly, the barest trace of blush creeping to his cheeks, “Oh, hi sweetie, are you finished with your project?” he asked.

She shook her head, “There was something much more important that demanded my attention first.” His sheepish grin broadened to a genuine smile. “What was the piece?” she asked, nodding toward his mother’s piano—one of the very few family heirlooms he hadn’t liquidated with the sale of the mansion.

He shrugged, “I think I’ll call it Emma’s Lullaby in G-flat major.”

The corner of her mouth curled up, “You never cease to amaze me, Adrien Agreste.”

She wrapped her arm around his waist and the two walked slowly down the hall to Emma’s bedroom. “It _did_ feel good to play, though,” he muttered. 

Marinette knew what that meant, and the realization of it made her stomach clinch. He hadn’t been able to play the piano—at least, not voluntarily, not without flashbacks or panic attacks or anxiety—for years. He’d insisted on keeping his mother’s piano, and so they had, but it had remained a silent reminder of the life he’d lived before. “I’m so glad to hear that,” she replied.

“You know,” he said in deep introspection, “it wasn’t the playing that hurt. It was never the music.” She nodded knowingly. He continued, “It was the expectations.”

“I know,” she placed her hand on his shoulder.

He stroked Emma’s cheek fondly, “But you, sweet baby girl, will get to play whatever songs you want to play, yes you will. And if you want to join a rock band? Well, by all means, let’s do it.”

Marinette smiled, “She loves you so much, Chaton.” They made it back to the nursery and Adrien returned his sleeping daughter to her bed, then wrapped his arms around his wife. “Just remember,” Marinette teased and poked his nose softly, “when she has you so tightly wrapped around her little finger that you can’t see straight—just remember that I came first.”

“I don’t think I’ll have a hard time remembering that, Marinette,” he responded in that silky voice that still made her knees go weak. She leaned up on her toes and kissed him tenderly. He held on to her, deepening and lengthening the kiss. Finally, he gave her lower lips one last little suck, and pulled back. “Can I see your project?” he asked.

“Sure, but first will you write _me_ a lullaby?”

He grinned and the two wandered back into the music room. The enormous instrument didn’t look quite so austere now, but rather like the arms of a dear friend that had been waiting, hoping for this moment of sweet reunion for a long time. Adrien sat down and felt the cool keys under his fingertips. Marinette sat on the bench beside him. Then, he took a deep breath and played a unique melody that rippled up and down the keyboard. The piano rewarded him with rich, luxurious sound, carrying Marinette away in her thoughts. He managed to pour his feelings into the instrument, and what came out wasn’t a song—it was the years of trauma and pain, the heartache of realization, then the long and arduous climb out from the depths of despair into the blinding sunlight, and then, the ongoing healing. Now, at last, his melody turned into pealing arpeggios of joy and hope at what the future would bring. He eventually tapered to an incomplete cadence and finished his song on a jarring chord, and then his hands left the keyboard as Marinette waited expectantly for more.

“Wait, was that it? It wasn’t done!” she pouted playfully. “It was beautiful, by the way, but why didn’t you finish?”

He turned to her, wrapping his arms around her waist, “Because life’s not done yet. We’re just starting our future. Who knows what twists and turns we still have? All I know is that I love you, Marinette, and I know that we can weather any storm ahead together.”

She touched his cheek and didn’t try to stem the flow of her tears. “Oh, Adrien, I love you so much.” She kissed him hard and he returned her passion. 

Whatever would come, whatever villains (whether super-strength or mental or emotional demons) they still had to battle, they had each other. Marinette held her Chaton and let her kisses explain her feelings, knowing that no matter how she tried, words would never be adequate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! The nature of this piece is that it will never truly be finished. I may, someday, come back and add more glimpses into the future of our happy couple. Maybe. You're welcome to leave your ideas in the comments and see if you can't entice me to change the chapter total. ;) So until then, or until another prompt catches my eye, au revoir!  
> Love, ~Mommadon~


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